


January Drabble Challenge

by NHMoonshadow



Category: Supernatural, Transformers - All Media Types
Genre: Daily Fic Challenge, M/M, OCs - Freeform, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Samulet, Surgery, Wayward Ones Verse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-01-02
Updated: 2015-01-08
Packaged: 2018-03-04 22:26:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 2,543
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3093584
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NHMoonshadow/pseuds/NHMoonshadow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Individual short stories, a new one everyday for the month of January. See the beginning of each chapter for summary.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> An amnesiatic Cas waits alone in a hospital.
> 
> This was loosely inspired by Sadrobotinahat's song I Fell All the Way, which can be listened to over on Soundcloud. I admit I have that and her song Little Sammy on my iPod. Well worth the listen! Might do a longer fic similar to this in the future, heaven knows its been lingering on my mind for almost a year and a half now . . .
> 
> Have a snippet idea? Feel free to prompt me!

Some days were better than others.

Most days he was barely aware of himself, barely registering his white room and the people who came to make sure he ate and slept, faces blurring together and words heard as if from across a great distance. He would drift through his days remembering nothing and feeling even less.

Other days were better. He still remembered nothing, but sometimes things would linger at the edge of his senses, teasing forth half-remembered sensations but giving nothing. On days like this he could focus long enough to interact with the others, his jailers or caregivers, he could never decide which they were.

The name they called him by didn't belong to him, of this he was sure but they would never listen. Sometimes his whole body felt wrong, his very skin feeling too tight, and wrong around him, like a borrowed suit he couldn't return.

He was waiting for someone.

And that someone he held above all others.

This was his one truth, and was what kept him quiet and complacent even on the days he felt the undeniable urge to rage against all that held him here.

The one he was waiting for felt more real to him than even his own shattered sense of being, and remembered them more than he did himself. Remembered bright green and a white smile. Sometimes what he remembered conflicted with itself, impressions of roars of rage and deep bellowing laughter. Of an ugly darkness and awe inspiring brightness than he longed to shelter within himself. Warmth and distance, and the need to help and protect. Lingering sents and sensations that were there and then gone, no more than a mere wisp of wind.

And so he waited.

Trapped within white walls and with people who thought he was someone else, he waited.

Until one day, someone new came to him as he sat alone in the corner of his room. They knelt before him, warm calloused hands taking his face between them and lifting. He looked up and saw bright green and a white smile, though the green was watery and the smile wavered.

"Hey Cas."

And through the dense fog of his memory floated one thing, the word crystal and clear like a diamond.

"Dean"


	2. Loss

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Loki had four children once.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Small headcannon for Gabriel/Loki. All the old myths and legends were based on truth, though not all the details were accurate. I would like to believe that Loki had those children of legend, of monsters and demi-gods whos powers stemmed from their actually an archangel father. But what happened to them?

Blood covered everything, painting the grove in red. Crimson fluid was splashed across tree trunks. Dripping over rocks. Coating the very ground until the grass was no longer green. Bodies were strewn about, limbs disembodied from the rest of the corpses. The carnage was so horrific that the locals would come to claim the land was cursed, that no human was capable of such a feat.

They would be right of course, partly anyway, but that was beside the point.

Loki sat against the base of an old oak, clutching the limp form of his only daughter.

As the years turned and as hunters became more effective in their craft, more and more higher creatures had fallen under their strength. Old gods from dozens of old pantheons had been forced to run to ground. Many fled, or fell into hiding, others adapted to the changing times as best as they could, hiding themselves in plain sight. Many old tales and prophecies lay shattered in the wake of the turning era.

More aware of the coming times than most, Loki had attempted to protect his family, his children, warning them as much as he was able and bid them to hide themselves.

Pity he had a history of failing his family.

Jormungandr had been the first of his family to fall, his son's own arrogance bringing him to a gristly end. Then Sleipnir, who's only crime had been to be in the wrong place in the wrong time, unaware that a Nightmare shared part of his roaming grounds and had been mistakenly slain in her place.

And now his dear Hel.

Those hunters had died bloody, torn to shreds with Loki's bare hands.

The rage still lingered, but had been swallowed up by the sheer force of his grief.

A low whine pulled him to the present, followed by a rustle in the brush. Loki's eyes widened at the wolf that emerged from the treeline, fur matted with blood. Limping forward on three paws, the wolf came close, nosing at the unmoving form still clutched to him. It let loose another pained whine before dropping down beside him, the large head tucked muzzle first against Loki's side. Loki dropped a shaking hand between its ears, red painted finger burying themselves in the fur there.

"It's just us now Fenrir."

And then there were two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Day two done! I haven't gone to bed yet so it's still the second!
> 
> Have an idea for a prompt or have a specific request? Feel free to let me know! See everyone tomorrow!


	3. Awaken

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He never expected to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have some Gadreel, because I'm still not over it. Or Samandriel. Or Gabriel. Just don't look at me . . .

Bleary eyes opened, slowly blinking away unconciousness.

After several sluggish heartbeats he found himself staring at a dim ceiling. He couldn't feel his limbs enough to think about moving, but the surface bbelow him was soft and comfortable. The smell of old books and gun oil permeated the air, familiar and comforting though it shouldn't have been.

There was a dull ache deep in his chest, made sharper by the fact he couldn't feel his wings at all, since normally they throbbed with agony. He was undecided if this was a blessing of a curse.

Then again, the last thing he remembered was stabbing himself with a makeshift weapon, so in all fairness he shouldn't be awake at all to be debating such things.

"It's good to see you awake."

Somehow, he managed to turn his head to meet the gaze of the man sitting beside the bed he had been placed on. "Sam?" His expression pinched in a frown, and then his eyes widened in sudden panic, voice rough with disuse. "Did we fail? Where is Castiel?"

Sam placed one large palm across his sternum, forcing him to settle back against the sheets. He hadn't been aware he had been trying to rise. The human looked exhausted, but he gave a smile, tired and worn, but a smile none the less. "Cas is fine. The Angel Tablet is destroyed and the rest of you family is back in Heaven. Well . . . the ones who want to be anyway."

Questions poured into his mind by the dozen, about the fight, about his family, about where Castiel was now, about why he was here instead of Heaven. But there were two more pressing questions. "What of Metatron? What of your brother?"

Something crumpled in the Winchester's expression, but still he attempted a reassuring smile that fell a bit short of it's mark. "Cas told me that Metatron is rotting in cell upstairs. I think the bastard got let off too easy, but that wasn't my call."

He silently agreed with that one, but he pressed on. "And Dean?"

Gadreel watched Sam's mouth open and then close, throat working on words that refused to come, and the ache in his chest increased. "We . . . ah. We don't know. Not for sure, anyway."


	4. Day 4- Stars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pre-series Dean enjoying the quiet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: danger and/or nature. I chose option number two.

Dean sat on the hood of his car, reclined comfortably back on the windshield, and long bowed legs stretched out, soaking up the warmth that radiated from the engine.

He had pulled over to the side of the road less than a half an hour before, taking advantage of a quiet back road with an empty field. The night called to him as it sometimes did, and he did as it bid and sat in silence and enjoyed the view.

And what a view.

It was a moonless night, the air crisp, but not quite cold, and without the light pollution that came near civilization the sky was completely glittering with stars. Each pinpoint of light twinkled merrily, clustered close together, and the sheer vastness spread out before him settled something in Dean's chest. That persistent ache within him that he did his best to ignore quieted on nights like these, and Dean couldn't help but take advantage of what he could.

On nights like this it was easier to forget that Sam was across the country, off playing college boy in an attempt at a normal life. On nights like this it was easy to forget that dad was off somwhere on a hunt by himself, not needing his son there to watch his back.

On nights like this he could forget that his family didn't need him.

Out here without another soul in sight, he could pretend, just for a while, that the stars were his friends and that somewhere out there was someone who gave a damn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm a ditz and totally forgot to upload yesterday. Double dose tonight!


	5. Day 5- Roughhousing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dean walks in on Sam and Gabriel (and no, not like that).  
> (Same world as Growing Stronger Through the Ashes)

"What the hell do you two think you're doing!?"

The warring couple froze mid-tussle.

Sam was on the bottom of the tangle of limbs, flat on his back from where he had obviously been on the defensive. A forearm had been pressed up against Gabriel's throat, in an attempt to keep him at bay, his free hand wrapped around a much smaller wrist, clearly deflecting a sticky blue hand away from his face. One bare foot had freed itself and had firmly planted itself against the archangel's stomach, knee compressed all the way to his own ribcage and ready to launch the featherbrain off of him.

Both were completely smeared with blue and orange paint, including Gabriel's oversized wings, and if Dean hadn't been so angry he's be reaching for a camera. Because, let's face it, the sight was hysterical.

With his trapped hand Gabriel pointed down at Sam. "He started it!"

Sam scowled. "I started it? Oh for the love of-"

In an impressive show of strength, Sam kicked out, flipping the archangel up and over his head. Gabriel yelped, his wings flaring uselessly as he slid across the garage floor, leaving tracks of orange and blue in his wake.

Right by the stalls where Dean and Castiel's vehicles sat.

"If you guys got paint on Baby I'm gonna kick your asses!" Dean growled. "And if you tagged the Bronco Cas is gonna have your head on a pike."

Gabriel rolled upright and let loose an indignant shriek when he saw the state of his wings. He glared at the younger Winchester. "Do you have any idea how long it takes to clean these things?"

` Sam was bust dusting himself off, frowning as all he did was smear more blue on his shirt. "Serves you right for ambushing me like you did!"

"Just means you get to help me wash them out."

"Nope! You're on your own for that one."

"But Saaam!"

Dean flung up his hands as he was completely ignored in light of their bickering.

He'd never understand those two.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a little something silly to balance the angst I've been whipping out. Seriously! Ideas are love, so feel free to leave a short prompt if you want to help me along, or if you're interested in me expanding on one of the drabbles.
> 
> See everyone tomorrow!


	6. Safekeeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jodi gets something in the Mail.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is part of the Wayward Ones Verse. Jodi is roughly 22 here, placing it in late s5 of SPN. Since none of the canon Transformers crew have made an appearance I haven't tagged it as a TF fic. YET.

 

Jodi was deep into her second cup of coffee when Riley came into the room, large stack of envelopes in hand.

"You look like shit."

She scowled into her cup. " _Good morning_ to you too, you jackass."

Not like she needed the reminder of her appearance. Her braid was from two days ago, and she had been too busy working to be bothered to redo it, and by the time she made it home she had collapsed right into bed, dirty clothes and all. She was pretty sure she had scrapes and grave dirt decorating her face, but couldn't care less at the moment.

Coffee first, shower later.

Riley chuckled, dragging out a chair so he could sit across from her. "Well aren't you just a ball of sunshine this morning," he mused shuffling through the mail and tossing them into seperate piles on the table. "Long night? Did you manage to take down Casper the not-so-friendly ghost?"

"Yeah. But I swear to _god_ I'm gonna get a set of iron knuckledusters so I can punch the next one in the face."

"You do that." He paused, frowning. "You have mail," he told her and chucked a lumpy envelope in her direction, the paper making a muted thunk as it hit the table. "It's from Sam."

Jodi's head shot up. "Winchester?"

"Uh huh."

She snatched up the envelope, frowning. "Sam never sends me mail . . ."

There was obviously something besides paper in there. With her eyebrows scrunched together, Jodi whipped out her pocket knife and made short work opening it up.

Something small, bronze and familiar clunked heavily to the table, followed by a fluttering piece of paper.

Jodi froze, staring, because there was no way that was what she thought it was.

She grabbed the little sheet of paper, looking for an explanation. Because obviously this was a mistake.

It was no more that a brief note. Two meager lines and an abbreviated signature below.

_Watch over this for me. I don't know when he will want it back._

_-S.W._

With hesitant fingers, Jodi took the pendant in hand, unused to seeing anywhere besides around the older Winchester's neck. She stared at it for a long moment, unsure what to do with it.

"What is it?"

She blinked up at Riley, reminding herself that he was there. "It's Dean's."

"Okay. What do they want you to do with it?"

"Safekeeping, I guess."

Jodi dug into the back pocket of her grimy jeans and pulled out her phone, and sent a short text.

 _I got it. And I will_.

It was a few minutes before there was a soft chime to signal that she had a reply.

 _Thanks_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Help me keep this going! I have two prompt charts at home. Someone give me a number from 1-130. Go!


	7. Recovery

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (The Wayward Ones Verse) Jodi is once more a patient at the Autobot base.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More from Wayward Ones. If this keeps up, I'm gonna have to gather these all up and slap them together in some sort of chronological order . . . .
> 
> Prompt: Surgery and/or bed.

 

Jodi was confined to Medbay.

Again.

It was all temporary of course, but she had almost forgotten how frustrating it could be under such strict supervision. At least she wasn't bedridden, which was a huge plus, but still Ratchet and his human coworkers watched her like a hawk, scolding her every time her fingers strayed up near the bandage taped over her right eye.

Two days ago Jodi underwent surgery to have yet another piece of Cybertronian tech added to her body. Well technically it was two pieces, but niether worked without the other, so she considered them one and the same. The tester contact lens had worked well enough that Ratchet was quick to design and create the more permanent model. Besides the lense-like implant that was somehow grafted right onto her iris, there was a little microscopic chip imbedded in the visual cortex of her brain. They had given her a whole spiel about the whole thing worked and how it would send the proper signals for her brain to translate, and it was all she could do to keep herself from touching the aching spot on the back of her skull.

It could have run on fairy dust and starlight for all that she cared, just as long as she had both eyes working again.

Which is what they were going to discover once Ratchet got off his big metal ass and came to supervise the removal of her bandages. All the medical staff were under strict orders not to do anything with any of Jodi's implants without the CMO present. Heaven forbid the fuck up just by breathing on her too hard.

The teen gave a loud frustrated sigh, waving off a nurse when it caught his attention.

She looked up at the nearest clock and strangled another aggitated noise before it could escape her throat. Ratchet wasn't due back from his meeting for another half-hour.

So she plopped herself down on her old cot in the corner still reserved for her and settled in for the wait.


End file.
